


Hutch's Dirty Little Secret

by wightfaerie



Series: Hutch's Dirty Little Secret [1]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: BDSM, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:16:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wightfaerie/pseuds/wightfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hutch has a secret. Will Starsky find out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hutch's Dirty Little Secret

Female on male BDSM. No sex, but graphic references. Do not read any further if adult content offends.  
  
  
  
 **Hutch's Dirty Little Secret**

Hutch heard a noise and looked up from the arrest report he was typing. Starsky bounced into the squad room, his brown leather jacket slung over his shoulder.

"You look happy, Starsk." He smiled at the grinning man standing in front of him.

"Of course I am, Blondie. We got three whole days off. What do you say we head off soon?"

"Sorry, buddy. I have plans for tonight." His stomach plummeted to his feet when Starsky's expression changed from happy to miserable. Hutch couldn't bear the confused look on his partner's face.

"But we said..."

"Starsk, I said I got plans for tonight. I'll be free by noon tomorrow. Meet you at Huggy's, my treat."

"Okay, but I'm ordering everything on the menu."

He was relieved to see Starsky smile. "Whatever you want, buddy."

He was glad that Starsky hadn't questioned him about his plans. He prayed Starsky wouldn't remember that he had cried off of their plans for their last three long weekends off.

"Haven't you finished that report yet?" Starsky leaned over his shoulder. "That's not right, Hutch. He was more like 200 pounds."

"Do you want to finish this?" Hutch roared.

"No, you keep at it. You're doing good." Starsky slunk around the desk to his seat.

Hutch glanced over at him and wished he hadn't been so sharp with Starsky. It wasn't Starsky's fault that he was as tight as an overwound watch. Hutch hated having secrets from his partner. But there were things that he didn't want anyone to know, not even Starsky.

Starsky sat quietly, waiting for Hutch to finish that last report.

"Starsk, you don't have to wait for me. I've got my car outside." Hutch willed his partner to leave. The longer Starsky stayed around, the more Hutch was sure that he would start asking questions.

Starsky looked back at him. His lips started to move, then stopped. Finally, he said, "Okay, if that's what you want, partner." He practically spat out the last word.

Hutch sighed. "Oh, Starsk. I just don't see the point in you hanging around when there's just this one report left. I can finish it, and you can get off home. Have a beer. Call Penny. Your weekend starts now." He smiled, hoping that would appease Starsky.

Starsky smiled back. "Okay, Blondie. But just don't say that I upped and left with you doing all the work." He snagged his jacket off the chair back and walked to the door, whistling. Pushing open the door, he stopped and turned around. "What you up to tonight? What's the big secret?"

Hutch swallowed. "No secret, Starsk. Just got another class, that's all."

Starsky sneered at him. "Oh yes, that art class. You don't need lessons. Your paintings are pretty good."

"And they'll be even better when I've been to a few classes." He breathed a sigh of relief. He knew Starsky would never offer to go to art classes with him. Starsky couldn't sit still long enough to draw a straight line. Photography was Starsky's bag.

"See ya, Picasso." Starsky left the room with a wave of his left hand.

"Yeah, later." Hutch resumed typing. It took him another ten minutes before he had finished. He pulled the paper out of the typewriter and jammed it into the file on his desk. As he stood up, he plucked his jacket out from underneath him. Walking around the desks, he carried the report into Dobey's office and threw the file into Dobey's IN basket.

Hutch trotted up to the parking lot behind the building. He had driven himself to work that morning because he wanted to head straight out after work. He had at least an hour drive ahead of him.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Just as Hutch was getting bored with the sight of the grey, empty road stretching in front of him, he saw the garish sign with the picture of a pink flamingo and a thick arrow pointing toward a dirt road between two large trees. Turning left at the sign, he drove half a mile up a tree lined drive.

He drew in a breath as he saw his destination, a one story pink building. The front of the building housed a diner. But eating wasn't what he came for.

Driving around the left side of the building, Hutch stopped in front of a big wooden gate that read 'Private - No Parking At Any Time'. He got out of the car and pushed the gate wide open. Climbing back in, he drove into a small parking area just big enough for three cars. The space furthest away from the gate was occupied by a pink Volkswagen Beetle. Hutch pulled into the space nearest the gate and turned off the engine.

He walked across the small parking area to a neat yard with tall greenery and nude statues of the classic Greek style. He continued through a smaller gate and up the grassy path on the other side.

As Hutch neared the dark, solid wooden door to the back of the building, he stopped. It felt like a thousand butterflies in his stomach had all taken flight at once. This happened every time he came here and always at the same spot on the path that snaked through the luscious planting. He felt like a naughty little boy sneaking out behind his father's back. What if he got caught? What if Starsky found out what he was doing? Or even worse, Captain Dobey. He could lose his job.

He sat on the small bench near the door to gather his muddled thoughts.

He remembered the first time he had come here. It had been a few weeks after he arrested Gunther. Starsky was recovering more quickly than expected, and had been grouching about his car. Merle had repaired the Torino after the bullets ripped through the chassis, and Starsky wanted Hutch to take her out so that the battery wouldn't die.

Hutch had protested. He detested driving the Striped Tomato. But one look at Starsky's sorrowful face, and he relented.

He had driven his own car over to Starsky's place. Reluctantly climbing into the driver's seat in the red car, Hutch started up the engine. It had felt so weird being in the Torino without his partner by his side.

With no where specific to go, Hutch had driven around aimlessly and eventually taken an on-ramp onto the freeway, going east toward the San Gabriel mountains. After driving for about an hour, he had spotted the pink sign and curiosity got the best of him. What sort of place would be out in the middle of the foothills?

He had pulled into a space in front of the building and gone inside. A tall, willowy woman with an English accent had taken his order. He sat at the counter and nursed the coffee until it was cold.

"Penny for them." Her voice had permeated his trance.

"Huh? What? Oh, sorry, I was miles away," he said unnecessarily.

She had laughed, "That's obvious. You look tense, I know a way to relieve that tension. I'm Tamara, by the way."

At first, he thought she was coming onto him and then realized that she was actually offering him a service. He was just about to warn her that he was a cop, but something stopped him. Looking around, he had noticed that he was the only customer. The two other waitresses were sitting in a booth drinking.

_- _What the hell, he was off duty.__

He could do with a little relief. He had been so focused on Starsky and Gunther that he had forgotten to look out for his own wellbeing.

"What you offering?" he asked before he changed his mind.

She walked around the counter. "Ariel, you're in charge." Tamara took his hand and pulled him through a door that he hadn't noticed before. "I think you need a nice relaxing massage," she said.

And that was exactly what he had gotten.

He'd paid his money and left, feeling very happy, and definitely relaxed, not realizing that he would be returning very soon.

The sound of a car horn brought him back to the present day.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Taking a deep breath, Hutch stood up and walked to the back door of the Pink Flamingo.

He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small key. Putting the key into the almost invisible key hole in the door, he turned the key and pushed the wooden door open. Hutch walked into the small, bare room that his Mistress called The Kennel. The door on the opposite wall was locked, and the only way to open it was from inside the main building.

No one was allowed past this door unless clad in the Pink Flamingo's special uniform. This was provided by the management and was tailored specifically to each client's needs. Every piece of clothing was personalized with his special initials. Hutch retrieved his uniform from a hook on the back of the door. He undressed quickly and hung up his own clothes. The uniform consisted of a complicated arrangement of pink leather straps that he buckled around his torso. Twisting his arms behind him, he buckled the last strap of the body harness at the back of his waist. The straps of the leather cock harness were the most difficult to get on without pinching. He winced, getting the leather tightly in place and, clipping on the leash. Decorating each strap was an array of rings, that could be used to attach him to whatever his Mistress desired. Hutch had had to fill out a list of what he would and would not do before joining, and his one stipulation had been that he wouldn't wear a collar. He didn't want to risk having a bruise or red mark on his neck where it could be seen.

As always during this process, he thought about what he was doing, and wondered why he kept coming back. This was the dirty little secret he was keeping from Starsky, his best friend. And from everybody else who knew him. What would they think if they knew? He was the last person that anybody would think had a fetish. Even he hadn't known he liked bondage until he had tried it.

Completely attired in the bondage wear, he walked over to the door and knocked three times. This was his destiny for the next ten hours. Hutch turned around, and stood with his back to the door.

He heard it open and felt a presence behind him.

His Mistress. She placed a hand on each of his shoulders and pushed down. He knelt in response. She caressed the back of his neck, and he leaned into the touch, his eyes closed.

"You are right on time, as usual, My Little Pink Rabbit," a deep, sensual, English accent said in his right ear.

"Yes, Mistress," he responded, as she required.

"Good, good. Now, first the formalities. Who is in charge of your body and soul for the whole of playtime?"

"You are, Mistress."

"You have no rights, privileges or say in what happens to you, unless you are in your bad place. What is your safe word?"

"Lavender."

"And what is your safe sign?"

Hutch formed the letter 'L' with his thumb and forefinger.

"Good. If you need to use these, do so only after careful thought. Once used, the session will end and will not be resumed. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress."

He felt her fingers stroking his hair. His long blond hair was pushed behind each ear and brushed back from his forehead. Hutch felt his Mistress enclose his head and face in a leather hood. He knew that this was also pink to match the rest of his uniform. It was eased into place, and stretched over his features like a second skin.

He opened his eyes and saw blackness. The blindfold was already in place. He breathed in through his nose. The gag was clipped in place and his teeth were forced apart by the plug. He panicked for a second. He always felt like he was going to suffocate when he was first masked up. He felt her gently massaging his shoulder blades. This calmed his frantically beating heart.

Last, his Mistress pulled the laces tightly on the back of the hood and secured them at the base of the skull. She tucked her fingers under the leather and run them around the bottom where it clung to the jaw, checking that it wasn't too snug.

A rigid leather cuff was clamped around his right wrist and buckled in place. His left wrist and ankles were identically adorned. These completed his slave outfit. Again he knew these were pink, his Mistress's special color.

When he was fully suited, she pulled him to stand and turned him around. Each wrist cuff was clipped to a corresponding ring on the side straps. No slave was allowed to walk the hallway unrestrained.

Hutch now belonged totally to his Mistress. He was stripped of his every day persona and owned mind, body and soul by another. Without a word, she took hold of the cock leash and lead him through the door, down the long hallway and into her dungeon.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Hutch jumped slightly as the door slammed shut behind him. His hearing was heightened by the loss of his sight. There was a small hole in the hood by his right ear so that his mistress could speak to him if she wished. His skin tingled, and he stood still, waiting. His nerves jangled with anticipation. He tried to figure out where in the room his mistress was, but the special flooring absorbed all sounds of movement.

She had told him that the dungeon was soundproof and that he could make as much noise as he wanted when the gag was off. No one would hear him.

Hutch felt a pull on the cock leash. This was his cue to move. If he didn't, he knew it would hurt like hell because his Mistress would just pull harder to make him follow her. He increased his speed to catch up. The strain on his groin told him when to slow down and when to move faster. He didn't worry about tripping over anything since he knew that his Mistress always ensured the walkways were clear and safe.

Her hand splayed on his chest told him to stop. "Don't move until I tell you to. Do you understand?"

The clips restraining Hutch's wrists were released and he straightened his arms, letting his hands hang loosely by his thighs.

Hutch nodded and bowed his head. He wasn't allowed to stand tall in the presence of his Mistress unless she told him to do so. He stood placidly, awaiting his next instructions.

Hutch's arms were pulled roughly back and his wrists secured behind him. He heard a tinkling sound and pressure was applied, first to his cock and then his balls. His genitals suddenly stretched downward. __Ouch. What the?_ _ It was a few seconds before he realized that His Mistress had suspended weights and tiny bells from the rings on the cock and ball straps. __Shit, why did I agree to cock and ball weights? This is pure agony._ _ His Mistress had not used them on him before. She had promised that she would only use them when she thought he was ready.

Hutch was humbled by her faith in his ability to endure this much pain. He would prove to his Mistress that he was stronger than the weights. He was determined to make her proud.

"Stay perfectly still. Don't move. I will add extra punishment for every time a bell rings. I want complete silence for 15 minutes."

Hutch grunted and tried to breathe his way through the pain. The heaviness increasing as every minute ticked slowly away.

"Well done, My Little Pink Rabbit. Not one sound." His Mistress' voice was full of pride as it cut through his subservience. She was happy.

He sighed inaudibly with relief when the weights were removed from his penis and testicles, the renewed tinkling of the bells reminding him of his achievement. His tender groin throbbed as the feeling returned.

His wrists were released and his arms sprung forward. Hutch hissed as his deltoid muscles protested at the change of position. His Mistress unbuckled the wrist cuffs and Hutch was surprised at the premature uncuffing. He shivered as goosebumps appeared where the cool air hit the newly exposed flesh.

A push in the small of his back propelled him forward. He kept his head bowed.

"Stop," his Mistress commanded.

Immediately, he obeyed. Pressure under his chin raised his head up.

"Move forward two steps only. Keep your head as I have positioned it."

Hutch obeyed. His bare chest touched cold metal. He flinched at the sensation.

His head was pushed forward until his forehead made contact with a solid object. He felt something being fastened behind his head. He knew immediately where he was. He had been allowed to see the equipment in the dungeon when Tamara had invited him to join her client list.

He was facing the metal ladder cross that was positioned in the middle of the room. The cross was adjustable, the upright and cross bar weren't solid, but were open with rungs like a ladder. The top section of the cross had a circle with a metal band to hold the sub's head securely in place. There were rings placed around the perimeter of the cross.

His left arm was raised up sideways, and a metal band clamped around his wrist. That was a new addition, he didn't remember wrist clamps. The right arm was identically restrained. Now he understood why his wrists had been decuffed. His Mistress had pulled both of Hutch's arms up to a full stretch before securing them, and he could feel the strain between his shoulder blades. The close fitting metal bands didn't yield as his trapezoid muscles attempted to snap back into shape.

His legs were forced about a foot apart and the ankle cuffs were secured to the bottom of the cross with clips that fastened the cuff rings to metal rings welded to the cross.

His cock was pulled up toward his stomach as his Mistress tugged the leash and tied it around one of the rungs. He bit the rubber plug in his mouth when a stab of pain shot through his groin as the perineum was pulled tight by the straps separating his balls.

Hutch could feel every surface of the hard metal pressing into the front of his body. Movement without causing pain was pretty much impossible. He felt very vulnerable, and slightly afraid. Not because he felt in danger, but afraid of what was going to happen next. He was also excited. He never understood why he felt both fear and excitement at the same time. It was such a contradiction.

Hutch wanted to scream, __get on with it!__ His whole body was primed, his nerves on a knife edge. Would it be pleasure or pain?

He flinched as unbearable pain shot through his left nipple. _Damn,_ nipple clamps _._ Hutch hated those evil things _._ The same pain was mirrored in his right nipple. He bit the gag, trying to battle his way through the initial onslaught. Once he reached his tolerance level, the sensation would be more pleasurable than painful.

"You will stay there for one hour. Then I will decide what is to be done with you." The voice in his ear startled him. "I will be here at all times. Should you wish to use your safe sign, do so. I will be watching you," his Mistress said calmly. "Stay absolutely still. Movement of any kind will earn you extra punishment." Two light taps to his right buttock signaled the start of his time.

Hutch focused on his special place, the submissive head space he went to so that he could maintain the position his Mistress required. Hutch breathed deeply and released his grip on reality. The coldness of the metal disappeared and the ensuing ache of his protesting muscles faded away. His Mistress did all this for him. Warmth flooded his body as he allowed himself to float weightlessly across the calm blue ocean. He soared as free as a bird. Complete and utter peace filled his heart.

Hutch smiled as the Pink Flamingo gently nuzzled him as she flew by.

Two light taps on his right buttock brought him out of his reverie.

"Time's up, My Little Pink Rabbit. You have pleased me. I will reduce the strokes to six."

She removed the gag from his mouth.

"Thank you, Mistress." He tensed, waiting for the strokes to start.

Hutch sighed blissfully when she lightly stroked the suede, multi-stranded whip over his skin. When the first stinging blow hit the middle of his shoulder blades, he screamed. His muscles were already burning from the overly stretched position of his arms. The second stroke hit the same spot, intensifying the pain. The third stroke hit lower, just beneath the other two. He hissed when the next three strokes whipped across his buttocks. A thousand stars danced across his retinas. Pleasure and pain mixed together in one huge explosion of insurmountable ecstasy. His knees would have buckled if he had not been restrained on the metal frame.

A searing pain shot through his chest and shocked him back to reality. His Mistress removed the nipple clamps simultaneously and he gritted his teeth until the pain from the return of blood flow receded. His Mistress gently licked and sucked Hutch's tender nubs until he purred with pleasure. Going lower on his torso, she gently rubbed cool lotion into his tender buttocks and back. Her ministrations were both soothing and stinging at the same time. Hutch flinched.

The leash was unfastened and his numb cock sprung to life. Hutch gasped. The effect of the pull from the weights, the forced vertical position by the tied leash, and his arousal, shot little daggers through his engorged member.

Hutch's head was released from the metal band and he cautiously turned his neck, slowly stretching the seized up mastoid muscles. His ankle cuffs were unclipped and the wrist clamps unlocked. Hutch groaned as his dead arms dropped limply to his sides. Finally, free from the support of his metal prison, Hutch's legs turned to jelly and his Mistress steadied him when he swayed. Gently, she lowered him to the floor and massaged feeling into each limb. Pins and needles jabbed as the red stuff coursed through Hutch's unrestricted veins.

Hutch lay docilely in his Mistress' arms. The stresses of every day life were replaced with an intense emotion that bound him to her possession of his entire being. He was hers to sculpt as she so wished. He closed his eyes, and felt like his body was melting into the floor beneath him. His mind was still not reconnecting fully to his surroundings, the euphoria of submission allowed total release.

Silently, she pushed up to stand and instructed Hutch to do the same.

Obediently, Hutch carefully tested his legs and stood, head bowed. The leather wrist cuffs were reinstated to their rightful place and clipped once more to the side straps of his uniform. A tug at the leather leash attached to his bound cock signaled the order to follow his Mistress to his overnight guest room. He never drove home straight after a session.

Once he was settled on the large bed, the hood was removed. He blinked at the brightness, although the room was only lit by a small lamp. His eyes slowly adjusted, and he smiled at the beautiful woman sitting on the bed beside him. Her lithe body was tightly clad in a pink leather cat suit, and a pair of the highest heeled boots he had ever seen. Wearing these boots, she was nearly his height.

She smiled and removed the pink ankle cuffs, the wrist cuffs and the body harness. She gently rubbed the smooth flesh, cooing softly over the slight redness on his skin.

Finally, she released his pulsating cock from the confines of the straps. It stood to attention and she laughed, her blue eyes sparkling. "That one is all yours, My Little Pink Rabbit."

Hutch sighed. That was the only downside to this relationship. She didn't give sexual relief.

With a toss of her long black hair, she gracefully slid off the bed and headed for the door.

Hutch watched, mesmerized, as His Mistress sashayed from the room.

He lay back carefully. His back and buttocks were still burning and tender. He imagined his Mistress naked, and curled his hand around his erection. Just a few strokes was all it took to bring himself to orgasm after all the sexual torture.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

After cleaning himself up in the en-suite bathroom, Hutch snuggled under the sheets and looked around the room. Unlike most of the place, this room wasn't pink. It had been tastefully decorated with muted gold painted walls and a plain white ceiling.

He lay under crisp white sheets and a thick burgundy and gold quilt.

A dark wooden desk and chair stood by the only window. The curtains were open, and he looked out onto the moonlit yard that he had walked through earlier.

He sighed, a peaceful, contented feeling washing over him. He loved the serenity of this room. It was a real treat to the senses after the pinkness of the dungeon and the kennel.

He drifted off to sleep. -

Hutch's sleep was punctuated with dreams.

It was his third visit. He sat at the counter drinking water and chatting to Tamara. They were the only people in the diner, and he joked, "It is a good thing you haven't offered me any extras with my massage, because I am a cop."

She laughed, "I don't sell sex, but I do offer other relaxation services. Are you interested?

He was curious. "Yes".

"Then let me show you the back rooms." Tamara locked the front door and beckoned with one finger, the nail painted bright pink.

He followed her to a room behind the diner. He couldn't believe the equipment she had in there.

"Do you want to try something?" Tamara asked coquettishly.

"Um, okay. What do I do?"

"First, you pick a safe word. If you say this word, I will stop immediately and release you."

Hutch said the first word that came into his head. "Lavender."

"Next, I restrain you." She pointed to a metal chair.

Hutch eyed it warily. "I dunno. You don't have hidden cameras around here, do you?"

She laughed. "Trust me. It's perfectly safe. Just you and me. I have a panic button that will call help if I need it. My brother, Eddie, lives the rooms above the diner and I have the rooms above here. I don't mind if you want check out the other rooms. I want you to feel totally comfortable. You don't have to do this, if you don't want to."

Hutch knew she probably thought he was being irrational, but he gave the other rooms the once over, just in case. Letting Tamara tie him up was far riskier than having a massage. He walked back into the dungeon. "Okay. Doesn't your brother mind you doing th...I mean having clients?"

She laughed. "No. In fact, he has his own clients. We share the work. Diner, dungeon, massage parlor, bodyguard."

"Oh," Hutch said, wondering what her brother looked like. He licked his lips nervously.

She sat him down on the high backed chair and, using metal handcuffs, pulled his arms above him, securing them to a ring on the chair back. Hutch struggled a little when the cuffs were fastened around his wrists.

"Do you want me to stop?" Tamara asked.

Hutch took a deep breath, trying to ignore the fear churning around inside his belly. __It's just handcuffs, you use them every day._ _ "No."

She pulled his legs apart and secured them to the chair legs with leather straps.

"Are you ready?"

Hutch eyed the blindfold in her hand and his gut clenched. He thought about Ben Forest. Why was he putting himself through this? What if it was a trap? __Then it's too late, Hutchinson. What you going to do about it?_ _ "Go ahead."

He tensed as she fastened the blindfold around his eyes.

"You will stay there for ten minutes. No moving, no speaking. Do you understand?"

Her tone made him automatically say, "Yes, Mistress."

Her laughter was music to his ears.

"You catch on quickly."

Back in his bed, Hutch opened his eyes and groaned. It was still dark, so he turned over and went back to sleep.

Starsky appeared by Hutch's bed. His face was thunderous, his tone accusing, "What's the big secret, Hutch? What are you up to? Where are you tonight?" Starsky asked the questions over and over again, the interrogation intensifying with every word.

"Can't tell you, Starsk. Please don't make me."

A voice woke Hutch. He realized that he must have talked in his sleep. His heart was beating rapidly and he was panting.

He hated lying to Starsky. But he didn't think that his partner would understand. He didn't really understand this addiction himself, just the need that kept him coming back for more.

He thought back to that first session, the ten minute bondage session Tamara had given him. He had thanked her and said he would just stick to the massages.

But he had soon come back for more.

The massages no longer relaxed him, and he had started to dream about the feeling of release he had when he was restrained. He found that being commanded not to move was incredibly powerful, and his body tingled with anticipation when he was unable to see what was happening around him.

Finally, he had admitted to himself that what he needed, wanted, was that feeling of helplessness again.

He had booked another session, which had been spent working out their contract. Tamara had explained all the equipment to him and they had worked out his needs, his do's and don'ts. There were certain things he'd refused because of his job. The leather cock strap was his slave collar. He couldn't be punished with anything that caused long term pain or took a while to heal. He needed to be able to work as a cop at all times. He always made sure that he had at least a day off after each session.

Coming back to the reality of his little room, Hutch leaned over and picked up his watch from the bedside table. It read 8.20. He might as well get up and get an early start back to Bay City. Maybe go and pick Starsky up for their lunch date.

Guilt washed over him at the thought of his buddy. Starsky had planned their weekend off, and he had just done his own thing without even thinking about Starsky. The look on Starsky's face after Hutch told him that he had plans had cut deep into his soul. But he had selfishly continued thinking about himself.

He sat up, stretching his stiff muscles, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. After a quick shower, he dressed in the clean clothes he had brought and shoved the dirty ones into his overnight bag.

Tamara always made sure that his bag and discarded clothes were placed in his room before morning.

He walked down the long hallway, pausing for a second as he passed the closed Dungeon door. His mouth twitched at the memory of last night. He walked through the open door into her office.

Tamara looked up and smiled at him when he stopped in front of her desk. "Morning, Ken. How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?"

He grinned back. "Morning. I feel great, thanks. And yes, I slept well." There was no way he was going to tell her about his dreams. About the guilt he felt after enjoying what they did. She would understand, but...

Hutch reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a white envelope. He placed it in the silver tray sitting on the front edge of the desk. After their initial consultation, money was never mentioned again. The protocol for regular clients was "cash in a sealed envelope". Tamara never touched the envelope while the client was there. She trusted her regulars, just as they trusted her with their secret needs.

She asked, "Usual breakfast? I'm just going to open up."

Hutch watched as she pushed her chair back and stood up. She was dressed in black, tight fitting pants and a body hugging pale pink t-shirt with the words 'Pink Flamingo' printed in darker pink across the bust.

He followed her to the door, his eyes focused on her ass the whole time.

Her flat shoes reduced her height drastically, and she barely reached his shoulder. Unlike those ridiculously high heeled boots she wore as a dominatrix.

The thought crossed his mind that, in another place, another time, he would have liked to have gotten to know her better. But she had made it perfectly clear at the consultation that she was a professional, and never dated clients, past or present.

Hutch remembered that she had asked him a question. "No, not today. I have some place to be. I'll be in touch."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

The drive back never seemed to take as long as the drive there, and Hutch was outside Starsky's place before ten am.

Taking the wooden outside steps two at a time, he quickly reached the porch and found the key in the usual place. He let himself in and shouted, "Starsk. Hey, buddy, you around?"

Getting no reply, he headed for the bedroom. Hutch poked his head around the doorframe and heard the shower running. He sniffed the air and grinned. Perfume. Starsky had obviously hooked up with Penny, or some other female last night.

Hutch lay on the bed, smiling as he relived every moment of the previous evening. Last night's session surpassed his all expectations. He waited until the shower stopped running. "Starsk, you in there alone?"

He heard a muffled, "Huh," and the bathroom door opened. Starsky had a towel wrapped around his waist. His face lit up, and he grinned when he saw Hutch.

"Hey, buddy. Thought I'd pick you up. Not interrupting anything, am I?" Hutch asked.

"No. Penny left about half hour ago. What you doing here so early? Thought we said noon at Huggy's." Starsky wandered around the bedroom gathering clothing. He disappeared back into the bathroom and shut the door.

"I did, but I was finished earlier than expected so I thought I'd pick you up." Hutch went back into the living room and winced when he sat down on the couch. His buttocks were still tender. Tamara had whipped a little harder than normal last night. Not that he had complained.

"What's wrong, buddy? Was she kinda rough with you last night?"

Hutch whipped around and saw Starsky stood in the door way. "W--what? Who?" Hutch asked. __How did Starsky know?__

"The lady who left you a little sore this morning. Did she scratch you?" Starsky laughed.

"Yeah, yeah. Something like that." Hutch was sure that Starsky could tell he was lying. He felt so guilty that he turned away and picked up the photography magazine lying on the coffee table.

"I knew there was another reason besides improving your painting technique. Who is she? Another student or the teacher? Come on, spill." Starsky sat next to Hutch and looked him in the eye. "Tell all, buddy. You're not usually this secretive about women."

"Starsky, you know I never kiss and tell." Hutch tried to look appalled.

"I didn't ask for details. Just a name. We could have double dated last night. Huggy asked where you were. Maybe we can take the two girls out tonight."

"Not gonna happen, Starsk. Didn't quite go as planned and I don't think I'll be seeing her again." There he went again. Lying to Starsky. When would it stop? It was just one lie after another.

"Oh." Starsky looked at him, a smirk on his face. "Don't tell me the Hutchinson charm failed to impress her. Come on, Hutch. You're the darling of the stewardess' lounge. Your prowess is legendary."

"Just leave it, Starsk. Do you want lunch or not?" Hutch jumped up and stomped over to the door. "I'll be in the car."

He wasn't angry at Starsky, he was angry at himself. He should have stuck to their original plan of meeting at noon. Now Starsky would be on his case all day.

Starsky shrugged and followed him out.

Hutch waited impatiently by the red car. Normally he would argue that he wanted to drive his car when they were off duty, but he was feeling so guilty that the last thing he felt like doing was arguing over which car they used.

Starsky looked surprised to see Hutch standing quietly by his car. "Taking mine today, are we, buddy?" he said, unlocking the doors.

"Yes, why not?" Hutch asked defensively.

Starsky shot him another look but Hutch just ignored it.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Hutch drove the now familiar route out to the Pink Flamingo for another relaxation session.

Unlike two months earlier, he didn't have to lie to Starsky this time. Starsky had been reassigned to an out of town Vice team headed by an old colleague of Dobey's, while Hutch had been helping out in Child Abuse.

Captain Dobey had decided that it would keep partnerships and brains fresh if his men were assigned different departments and partners for a few weeks. This has been the first trial of their boss's new idea.

Hutch had hated every minute of the separation from Starsky, but he had enjoyed the new challenges of working with kids. It was the first time that he had spent a long period of time with the Child Abuse officers. He and Starsky had helped them briefly in the past, but Hutch now understood the pressures that particular department was under. He and Starsky had vowed to help out before but their own workload had gotten in the way. Now Hutch wanted to do more, spend more time helping these overworked officers and the poor children. He even considered asking to be reassigned permanently, but only if Starsky agreed to join him.

Hutch had Saturday and Sunday off, but Starsky had been scheduled to work his last two days over the weekend. Which made it a perfect time to indulge in Hutch's secret vice.

Seeing the pink sign, Hutch came back to the present and pulled off the road. After driving through the gate and up the road, he parked his car in the usual spot. The butterflies were still fluttering in his belly but they no longer bothered him. He was here because he wanted to be. He didn't stress over the guilt trips as he had on earlier visits.

He fingered the small key in his jacket pocket. That key opened the gateway to another world. Another Hutch - who wasn't a cop. The Hutch who didn't have to be a hero. He was just a slave to be manipulated in any way his Mistress wished. He grinned and slid the key into the lockhole, and opened the door. Pushing the door closed, Hutch began to undress.

He was surprised to find that his usual uniform wasn't hanging on the hook on the back of the door. There was only a simple leather cock and ball harness, with the customary leash. He put this on. This was far simpler than the multiple strap harness he normally wore and didn't take as long to fasten. Hutch preferred his usual attire. He used the time it took him to arrange and buckle the straps to find his center, so that he was ready for his Mistress. However, this time, he had time to think. He wondered what Starsky was doing now. As much as he had loathed their time apart, the betrayal of lying to his partner hit harder. _Pack it in, Hutchinson, focus_. He sat cross legged on the cold floor, preparing himself with a brief meditation. Satisfied that he was in the correct mind frame, he stood and knocked on the separating door. He turned around and stood with his back to the door.

A shiver ran down Hutch's spine when his Mistress touched his shoulders. Immediately, he dropped to the required pose.

He had come to love the strict ritual that began every session. It was the only part of the evening he knew what to expect and that calmed him.

He felt the weight of everyday life slowly drift away. Hutch, the cop, disappeared, and My Little Pink Rabbit, the submissive, took his place.

The hood no longer panicked him as the leather hugged his face. There was no gag attached today. Hutch was alarmed. __What did this mean?_ _ The gag had always been part of his uniform. In fact, he would rather be gagged than blindfolded. His Mistress tightened the laces at the back of his head and Hutch's final connection with reality was severed. He belonged totally to his Mistress. Hutch's world was further unbalanced by the lack of cuffs. A single loop of rope secured his wrists behind him. Hutch was confused. So much was different. Not that he questioned his Mistress' actions. He was her property to do with as she willed. He was just accustomed to the regular routines of passing from reality to submission.

She pulled him to standing and turned him around. Without a word, she tugged on the cock leash, leading him into her dungeon.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

As usual, Hutch jumped when the door slammed shut behind him. He stood still, head bowed, and waited for his Mistress's command. He could feel his anticipation growing as time passed. The tension in his body was almost painful. His neck started to ache, but he wasn't allowed to move his head to stretch his muscles.

His wrists were freed. "Sit."

He obeyed immediately and felt rubber under his hands and buttocks.

"Crawl backwards."

He raised himself up on his hands and feet into a bridge position and slowly worked his way backwards.

"Stop. And don't move again until I tell you."

He stopped and sat back down. "Yes, Mistress."

He felt her hands around his ankles. His legs were pulled straight and his feet pushed into a small space. He heard the noise of a zipper being pulled up, and felt his legs being clamped together. He was quickly immobilized up to his thighs.

"Lie down."

Hutch did as he was told.

His left arm was pushed into a thick band, and then his right arm. His Mistress zipped him into a rubber bag. The close-fitting rubber squashed his genitals and pinned his arms to his sides. The material closed around his shoulders and collar bone. His whole body was encased from the neck down. His Mistress pulled the rubber even tighter around his feet, legs, and trunk, until he felt like a tightly wrapped present.

He shuddered when he felt a pull at the hood. His neck was stretched slightly, and he heard a click. When he tried to move his head, something was holding his neck taut. A tug at his feet stretched his body out more. Then there was another clicking sound, and his feet were restrained. His body was stretched out, but not painfully so. At least not yet.

He found it amazingly comfortable, and there was a certain therapeutic relaxation to being so helpless. His body was warm and snug. His own little cocoon.

"Good, My Little Pink Rabbit. You will stay there for two hours. Any movement will earn you extra punishment. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress." Two hours. He had never been restrained for that long before. Would he be able to do it? The position didn't strain his muscles but could he stay still for that long.

Two taps to his right buttock signified the start of his time. He drifted into his submissive head space. The hardness beneath him softening, his spine molding into the floor. His mind freed by the total confinement of his body. He was a carefree spirit riding on the wind.

"Police. Don't move, lady."

Hutch was dragged back to earth. A male voice. His father? No, not his father. But he did recognize that voice.

__Starsky._ _

He heard the unmistakable click of handcuffs.

"Take her away, and don't forget to read her her rights."

Hutch felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Stay still. I'm just gonna get you out of this, pal."

It didn't sound like Starsky knew it was him. He obviously hadn't seen his beater out back.

"No, leave me alone," he shouted. He made his voice as deep as possible. Oh God, what was Starsky going to think? __How stupid you are, Hutchinson._ _ Couldn't just get caught with your pants down, could you? You had to be packaged up like a Christmas present.

Starsky likes Christmas popped into his mind. Well, he knew Starsky wasn't going to like this present.

"Can't leave you like this, pal. Too dangerous."

Hutch could just imagine what Starsky was thinking. The same thing he used to think in these kinds of busts. Dirty perverts. Men who could only get their sexual kicks from being tied up and humiliated. Now he was one of them. Not that he was doing it for the sexual pleasure, he truly did it for relaxation and stress relief. __Getting caught had never been part of the plan.__

"Just free my arms and leave me to do the rest. Or am I under arrest, too?" They never arrested the clients.

"No, you are not under arrest. We'll just get out you of this, and you can go."

The tension on his stretched body loosened and he wriggled the stiffness from his neck and legs. The tightness of the rubber lessened as Starsky tugged at the front fastenings. Then the zipper was pulled part way down. Hutch heard a sharp intake of breath.

"H-hutch?" Starsky asked, obviously in shock.

What? How the hell did Starsky know it was him? He had barely any skin showing. Then he felt gentle movement around his neck. Dammit, he had forgotten to take his chain off. Starsky had recognized the moon and star. He realized that there was no way he could get out of this now.

"Now you know my secret, Starsk," he said quietly.

He jumped when Starsky bellowed, "Everybody out of here. I want this place thoroughly searched. I will see to this room."

He quickly freed Hutch from the rubber bag, but left the hood and harness in place.

Hutch consciously covered his genitals with his hands. Oh God, could it get any worse?

Starsky unclipped the blindfold and Hutch looked into his partner's eyes. His belly clenched when he saw the disappointment Starsky didn't even try to hide.

"Come on, we've got to get you out of here before anyone sees you. Where's your clothes? What the hell were you thinking? Don't answer that, this is not the time. Where's your car?" Starsky just shot question after question at him, without giving him time to answer.

There was no question that Starsky was mad as hell. Hutch stood warily, still covering his cock with both hands, afraid to even touch his partner. Hell - they probably wouldn't be partners again after this was over. If he still had a career.

"Out back. Didn't you see it when you came in?"

"No, we came in the front door. Back gate was locked. But there's a uniform guarding the parking lot. Damn. How are we going to get you out of here?"

"My clothes are in the kennel."

"The what?" Starsky's face was pale with shock but his eyes glittered with anger. He was everywhere at once, moving constantly, examining each item in the dungeon. He picked up a slave collar and put it back down with a huffed breath. Hutch recognized Starsky on an adrenaline high, and kept his answers brief and to the point. He didn't want Starsky going ballistic on him. This was humiliating enough.

"A small room at the end of the hallway. It opens out into the back yard. Once I'm dressed, I can climb the fence and hide out in the woods until you all go."

He turned his back on Starsky and fumbled to free his genitals from their restraint. His hands shook when he got the strap through the buckle and dropped the bindings to the floor. Feeling like he was going to be sick, Hutch picked up the rubber bag and wrapped it around his middle. "I'm sorry, Starsk. I didn't want to lie to you. I didn't think you would understand."

"I don't," Starsky said, his jaw so tense he could have cracked nuts with his teeth. "Go and get dressed. I'll see you later." Starsky turned and walked away.

Hutch walked slowly to the kennel, trying to ignore the stares he got from the other police officers.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Hutch sat on the couch in his apartment the next day. He had hidden in the woods behind Pink Flamingo until dawn. Finally, the place had emptied and he was able to retrieve his car and drive home.

Actually, he had driven to Starsky's first, but he wasn't there.

Hutch had tried to call Starsky three times this morning but the phone kept ringing. Starsky never picked up.

A loud banging at the door startled him. He opened it slowly. Starsky was standing on the landing without speaking. Hutch took a nervous breath, his belly churning. "Starsk, why'd you knock? You know where the key is."

Starsky just stood and stared at him, shaking his head in disgust. Arms folded across his chest.

His quiet intensity made Hutch feel really uncomfortable. "Are you coming in?"

Starsky walked in and stood behind the couch, his face thunderous. "Just what the hell you playing at, Hutch? Going to one of those places? Why?"

Hutch took a step back until he was up against the door. "I'm sorry, Starsk."

"Yeah, you said that last night. You're a cop!" Starsky yelled, stabbing a finger at him. "You can't do things like this. What if it hadn't been me in that room? What if one of the other detectives had found you? They might have hauled your ass in, just for the fun of it. Then they would have found out you were a cop. And my partner!"

"It, it was stupid. I know that now." Hutch hung his head. He felt like he was being scolded by his father. Why did he always cower when the men he loved shouted at him?

"Stupid. It was more than stupid," Starsky hissed, pacing with agitation. "You could have blown your whole career! IA would have a field day with this. Why?" Starsky's face was blood red and his dark eyes flashed dangerously. He looked like he could happily throttle Hutch at that very moment.

"Don't you think I know that?" Anger flushing through his veins, Hutch lashed out. He expected Starsky to be pissed off, but he was a grown man. Where did Starsky get off acting so moral.

"Then why, Hutch? What made you even go there?" The veins on Starsky's neck were bulging as if his blood boiled with fury.

"Because I needed it. It was an accident I even found the place," Hutch said tightly. He took a step toward Starsky, pointing his finger at Starsky's chest. "It was your fault."

Starsky almost leapt on him. "My fault, how is any of this my fault?"

"You wanted me to drive that stupid car."

"When?" Starsky gaped in astonishment. This was obviously not what he'd expected to hear.

"When you were in hospital. After I arrested Gunther." Hutch realized right away that he'd said the wrong thing.

"Hutch, that was over two years ago!" Starsky shouted, his fingers clenching as if he wanted to slug someone, preferably Hutch. "You've been going to that woman for over two years?" Starsky's expression changed. "Oh, I get it. Art classes, good one."

"Yes. I'm a big boy, Starsky," Hutch answered coldly to cover up the fear still clutching his chest. He was not out of the woods here, he could still lose his badge if Starsky said anything. "I can do what I want. I needed someone, something, and Tamara was there. She's not doing anything illegal. She doesn't sell sex, just relaxation."

"Hutch, are you listening to yourself? What she does is sick, perverted. The men are..."

"Are what, Starsk?" Hutch stared at him, his face burning, but sticking up for what he believed. "Sick, perverted? What does that make me then? I don't care what you think." He poked himself in the chest. "I enjoyed it. I needed it." All his emotions came tumbling out - the fear after Starsky nearly died. The loneliness. "I nearly lost you, Starsk. I was scared, tired, lonely." He remembered the odd dichotomy and wonderful release of being restrained. "It helped. And I got hooked. Went back for more."

Starsky's face softened. "Please say you won't go back again. Think about your career, Hutch. Any time you need to talk, I'm here."

"Talking isn't what helps me, Starsk." Hutch shook his head, surprised that admitting the truth lightened his shame. "You won't understand, but that feeling of helplessness releases all the stress." How could he explain it to Starsky? It was so much feeling and not anything logical. "You don't have to think, move, do anything. You don't have any control." He hugged himself, recreating a little of the tightness of bondage. "It's like, like. I dunno, it's hard to describe but it works for me. You don't have to like it, just don't judge me." He refused to beg, but held one hand up to his partner in an appeal. "Don't make me feel dirty."

"Hutch, this isn't about making you feel dirty," sighed Starsky. "That woman is in jail and..."

"Her name is Tamara, not that woman, Starsky," snarled Hutch. He was using his anger to try and suppress the guilt and embarrassment of his predicament.

"Hutch, that woman's business is being torn apart, as we speak. Accounts, records, everything," said Starsky. He sounded like he was talking to a child. "What are they going to find?"

"Nothing, Starsk. She doesn't use real names. I paid in cash." Hutch paced the room. He avoided making eye contact with Starsky, his anger dissipating as his shame bubbled to the surface.

Starsky walked around the couch and sat down.

"Oh, God, Hutch. How could you put yourself in this situation? How could you put me in this position?" Starsky leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. "I should have reported this the minute I found you. Does she know you're a cop?"

"Yes," Hutch answered quietly. He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. He would give anything to be somewhere else right now.

"Great. This just gets better. What possessed you to tell her that?" Starsky's voice rose, his anger building again. "What if she decides one of her influential clients can help her?" He jumped up and grabbed Hutch by the upper arms, looking directly into his eyes. "You're finished if she names you, buddy."

"She won't." Hutch held Starsky's gaze. He trusted Tamara completely. He had placed his safety and sanity in her hands repeatedly over the past two years. "I have complete faith in her. She's my Mistress," Hutch said meekly.

Starsky roared and launched himself at Hutch, knocking him to the floor.

Before Hutch could retaliate, Starsky was sitting on Hutch's chest, pinning him to the floor by his wrists.

Hutch struggled to free himself, but Starsky's anger gave him a strength that Hutch couldn't match.

"This has got to stop, Hutch," growled Starsky in his face. "You can never, ever go back to her. They may not be able to charge her with prostitution, but we both know that she will be watched, now the police are aware of her...services."

Hutch abandoned his attempts to unseat Starsky. The power emanating from him was lessening Hutch's anger. Starsky's restraining tactics had a calming effect on Hutch. He closed his eyes and felt himself slipping into his submissive headspace.

"Hutch, you okay, pal?"

Starsky's voice cut into his nirvana. The pressure on Hutch's chest released when Starsky shifted his weight.

Hutch forced his mind back to reality. __Oh, God, Hutchinson, is this what it's come down to? Starsky's your buddy, not your Master_._ What if that happened on the street? What if he gave in to a thug who was trying to overpower him. He could get himself, or even worse, Starsky, killed! He flashed back to the alley, the one time, so far, in his career that he had frozen while on the job. He remembered how Starsky had charged up the alleyway, expecting Hutch to back him up as usual. But Hutch had been cowering behind a crate, leaving Starsky wide open. He would never forget the horror when he realized what had happened. He had vowed never to put Starsky at risk again.

Hutch knew what he had to do, watch his partner's back as always. He looked up at Starsky. "You are right, Starsk. This has got to stop, now!"

Starsky smiled. "Hallelujah! You're my best friend, Hutch. I'm just watching out for you. Don't go keeping any more secrets, huh, babe?" Starsky pushed himself up from the floor and held out his hand to Hutch.

Hutch clutched the strong hand and let himself be hauled to a stand. He rubbed his chest and breathed deeply. It hurt where Starsky had been sitting on him.

"Okay, I promise. Do you want a beer?" Hutch headed for the kitchen. He reached in the refrigerator for the bottles and apprehension hit as he realized the enormity of what he had just promised Starsky. Could he really give up the bondage sessions? Lose the total release that they gave him. He would try, he had to. For the sake of his friendship with Starsky, their lives and his own career.

"Hutch." Starsky's hesitant voice broke his trance.

Hutch had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't heard Starsky walk up behind him. Neither had he been aware that he hadn't moved since he reached for the bottles.

"Yeah?" he answered, not changing his frozen stance, his fingers still curled around the necks of two bottles of beer.

"Did you mean what you said back there? About not going back for more...sessions." Starsky sounded like he wasn't sure whether to ask the question or not.

"Yes, Starsk, I meant every word. I promise that I will not go back there." Hutch prayed that he could keep his vow. If he couldn't, he would have to find somewhere else. He knew that Tamara was no longer an option. But the thought of giving in and lying to Starsky again ripped at his heart.

He started when Starsky gently touched his back, just above his belt. Hutch still didn't move. He wasn't sure he was ready to look Starsky in the eye yet. His thoughts were too muddled. He had given Starsky his word, and Hutch couldn't even guarantee to himself that he would be able to keep it.

"Hutch. If you get the help you need from..." Starsky stopped speaking.

"Bondage, Starsk. You can say the word." Hutch straightened, twisting the caps off the bottles and discarding each one in the sink. He thrust a bottle into Starsky's hand and sat on the nearest wooden chair.

"Won't be easy to give up, buddy. You said yourself, something keeps making you go back." Starsky sat in the chair opposite Hutch.

Hutch fiddled with the label on the bottle. "I know, but I swear that I will stop. For both of us. I could have ruined my, our, careers. When you held me down, I was back in that dungeon. You could end up getting killed if I did that on the street." He bit his lip. Damn, he hadn't meant to tell Starsky about his lapse earlier.

"Figured out you were someplace else and not with me," said Starsky, matter-of-factly.

Hutch glanced through his eyelashes at Starsky.

The expression on Starsky's face jolted Hutch's stomach. He could see that Starsky wanted to say more, but probably wasn't sure how. He slowly placed the bottle on the table. "What?"

"I was thinking. If you need to, you know, need stress relief. I want you to tell me. I couldn't bear you lying to me again, Hutch. Our partnership, friendship, is built on complete trust. Our lives depend on knowing we got each other's backs."

"I know, Starsk. And I don't ever want to risk damaging that bond between us again." Hutch looked down at the table, not wanting Starsky to see the tears forming in his eyes. He ripped at the beer label with one thumbnail. The disgust he felt by putting Starsky in the position where he'd had to chose between Hutch, and the oath he made to uphold the law, cut deep inside him. "If I need stress relief, I'll use a punching bag."

"What if that don't work?" Starsky grabbed Hutch's hand. "Leave the label alone."

Hutch looked at the mess on the table, the label picked to pieces and scattered around the bottle.

"Then I find something else. I am not going back to Tamara, I can assure you."

He had made a decision and he would stick to it. He hated the tension between him and Starsky. Not just today or last night, but ever since he had started this mad affair.

Starsky jumped up and turned his back to Hutch. He paced around the room, stopping to look out of the window. "I want to help you, in whatever way you need. I could try...I could restrain you if you needed me to," Starsky said, almost inaudibly. "Not in a sexual way," he added. "You said it wasn't about sex, just helplessness. If you really need bondage to cope with life, tell me what to do and I'll do it. Anything to stop you going to another one of those women."

Hutch was astonished. Starsky was offering him a huge gift. His best friend was willing to act as his Master to protect him from himself, even though it went against everything Starsky believed in.

Hutch got up and walked over to the window. He turned Starsky around. "Starsk, that's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you, but I would never ask you to compromise your integrity to satisfy my selfish needs. You've proved already that you have my back by not reporting this whole thing. You risked your career so that I could keep mine. I would never ask for more."

Starsky stuck his chin out with determination. "Hutch, the offer is there. You only have to ask. Me and Thee is the safest place to be. Trust no one but each other, isn't that our mantra?"

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End file.
